8 The Hardest Word
by piccolina789
Summary: Follows the entire eighth season of CSI with "what happened after?" post-eps. Spoilers for all of CSI season 8, from "Dead Doll" to "For Gedda". GSR.
1. Deadening

**A/N: **So. I do plan to write through all of season eight – even after Sara is gone – until 8x17, "For Gedda". But this story will be shorter, and I'll do less episodes. I just don't like watching CSI without Sara, and especially without GSR. I'll explain my plan for season nine when we get there. But anyway, on with it!

Spoilers for episode 8x1, Dead Doll.

* * *

><p>I shouldn't be smiling<p>

Heat stroke, dehydration, a fractured arm and bruised ribs. I shouldn't be smiling.

But I was.

Because despite everything, she was going to be okay. I didn't lose her.

I couldn't remember much about the past twenty-four hours. It was a blur of heat and panic and fear, and all I could bring to mind was the sinking feeling in my stomach that took hold of me the minute I lifted the toy car to find the miniature replica of Sara trapped beneath it. That pit had yet to go away, but at least the feeling of someone squeezing my heart with both hands was starting to go away. All I could remember was saying, over and over, _I can't lose her. I can't lose her. _

I brushed my thumb over the back of her hand and continued smiling at her sleeping form. She had been taken off the IV, but was still hooked up to a few machines monitoring her heart rate and temperature. She was sun burnt and drained and still drowsy from the pain medication, but she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I didn't want to let go of her hand.

The team had been in and out since we air-landed at Desert Palm, but Sara had been asleep since she'd been released from the E.R. She was stable, but exhausted, and they each made me promise to call when she woke. I could see my own relief and joy mirrored in each of their eyes. They loved her too.

So when I heard the knock at the door, I wasn't surprised. Nick, Greg, Warrick – even the lab rats – were too anxious to sit around and wait for my call. I looked up and saw Catherine.

"I told you she was a survivor," she said softly.

I smiled and nodded, looking back to Sara. I didn't want to take my eyes off her.

"She's beautiful," I said softly.

Those words, coming from me, might have shocked Catherine out of her skin in normal circumstances. But these weren't normal circumstances, and she just hummed in response and drew up a chair to sit beside me.

"Where is everyone?" I asked her. "Do you need me for anything?"

"No," Catherine said quickly. "You're right where you should be. Brass is at P.D. taking care of Natalie's arrest and paperwork. The guys are in the lobby downstairs."

I laughed softly.

"I knew they couldn't stay away."

"Could you blame them?" she said quietly. "It was like Nick all over again."

I squeezed Sara's hand tighter.

"Can I ask you something?"

I took a shaky breath and nodded.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

I stayed silent a while, studying every darkened freckle on Sara's face. I knew the question would come. And I'd figured on Catherine being the one to ask it. In one respect, she deserved an answer. She was one of my dearest friends. In the other respect, even my least of dearest friends knew how much I valued my privacy. But I had prepared for this, and I didn't hold it against Catherine, for asking.

"We didn't want anyone to know," I said simply.

I finally tore my eyes away from Sara to look over at her. I could tell that she wanted more, but she nodded.

"It is very easy," I added at her silence. "With our jobs and in our lives and with the things that we have to deal with every day… it's very easy to be pulled into the dark. And Sara is… Sara is…"

I tailed off, searching for the right way to describe the woman who meant so much to me.

"The light," I finished. "I guess I was just afraid of losing or diminishing that light, by sharing it with others. I wanted it all for myself."

Catherine gave me a small, sentimental smile, and placed her hand on my shoulder. She left it there for a moment, and we sat, looking at each other, passing understanding between us without words. There were no hard feelings on either side.

"I'm going to go hang out with the guys for a bit," she said. "Come get me when she wakes up. After… you two have some time."

I nodded.

"I will."

"Take good care of her, Gil," she said on her way out. "She's going to need you."

I nodded after her again and turned back to Sara, whose eyes were fluttering open. I felt the same quiver in my stomach that I felt in the helicopter earlier that afternoon. The one that accompanied the overwhelming sense of relief.

_I didn't lose her._

I reached out to her and gently brushed her cheek with my finger.

"Hey."

"Hey," she said back. "I knew you'd find me."

Her voice was scratchy and raw, her eyes still heavy with tiredness. I beamed at her.

"We all did," I whispered. "God, Sara, we were so worried. It was… it was…"

"You know what kept me going?" she cut in.

"Sara, we don't have to talk about—"

"You," she interrupted. "How much I love you. And how much I'm sorry."

"W-what?" I stammered.

"That's all I could think," she replied. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

"Oh, honey," I breathed.

I reached around the tubes and leaned closer to kiss her, lingering close to her face when our lips broke apart. I wanted to kiss her until my lips were numb. I knew I should pull away, she was still so, so tired, but I just couldn't. My eyes couldn't stop taking in every inch of her, drinking her in. As much as I willed myself not to cry in front of her, tears built up in my eyes and worry fell over her face.

"Oh, Gil," she whispered. "Don't."

She kissed me again.

"I love you too," I said into her ear. "I love _you_, and _I'm _sorry."

I pulled away as she let out a throaty laugh.

"Well, I'm glad we've got that cleared up."

"Everyone's here to see you," I told her. "But if you're not up for it…"

"No," she cut in. "No, I want to see them."

I nodded.

"I'll tell them."

"I'm, uh, I'm guessing we're not so secret any more?" she teased.

"Not so much," I replied. "I'm sorry, honey."

"I'm not."

I smiled at her more, wondering whether I could just call Catherine instead of going to get her, so I wouldn't have to leave Sara, when I heard a few throats clear at the door.

"What can I say?" Catherine smiled. "Our timing is impeccable."

Nick, Warrick, Greg and Brass emerged from behind her, armed with enough flowers to plant an entire garden, and one unnecessarily large green balloon from Greg.

"It was either this or a pink one," Greg explained, shrugging. "And I know how you feel about pink."

Sara laughed and waved them over, and for the first time in hours, I left my chair by her bedside, letting them have their time with her. As Nick planted a kiss on the top of her head, Catherine tugged at my elbow.

"You have a visitor too," she said quietly.

"Me?" I repeated, surprised. "Who?"

She gestured to the doorway, where a small woman with gray curls stood holding a bouquet and a department store shopping bag. My mother.

"_Mom_," I singed as I embraced her. "_How did you know?_"

"_I may be old, but I'm not senile yet,_" she signed back. When I continued to stare blankly, she added, "_I watched the news_."

She handed me the bouquet, followed by the shopping bag.

"_These are for Sara,_" she said. "_And these are for you. If I know my son at all, you have neither clean change of clothes nor any intention of going home any time soon._"

"_You always thought of everything_," I signed as I smiled at her. "_Do you want to meet her?_"

She waved her hands in front of her.

"_No, no. Now is not the right time. And anyway, I came to see how you were doing_."

"_She'll be fine,_" I signed. "_So I will, too._"

She nodded carefully.

"_The times you told me about her… those few times you called this last year,_" she said, adding a guilt trip that made me smile. _"I could tell you care for her. I'm glad she will be okay._"

"_Thank you, mom_."

"_I should go,_" she signed hurriedly. "_I'll let you get back to her. Call me soon. I love you_."

I told her I loved her too, and turned back into Sara's room in time to hear Brass speak up from the middle of the huddle around the bed.

"Well, kiddo, we'll let you rest," he said.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Sara," Greg said, forcefully cheery despite the dried tear marks on his face. "And no complaining over which movies I choose."

"Rest up, sweetie," Nick added.

They finished their hugs and goodbyes, hugged and goodbyed me, and filed out. I smiled at her from across the room.

"It looks like the Garden of Eden in here," she giggled softly, her voice even more scratchy and raw than before. "You should go home. You need rest too."

"I can sleep here," I replied, setting back into my chair and taking her hand. I immediately felt the exhaustion wash over me.

"Gil, I'll be fine."

"I know," I said sincerely. "I know. But I don't know if I'm ready to let go yet."

I nodded at our interlocked hands and she gave me a faint smile. She looked every bit as tired as I felt, and we each settled into silence. My eyelids felt heavy, and I fought hard keeping them open, eventually allowing them slide closed, knowing that Sara was safe.

"It's over, Sara," I murmured, feeling sleep claim me. "It's over."

I fell into the puddle of drowsiness, but Sara's stayed open, her hand still grasping mine tightly.

"No," she whispered. "It's only just beginning."


	2. Family Style

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 8x2, A La Cart.

* * *

><p>"Are they here yet?"<p>

Greg barged through the fence door and practically ran into my backyard, both hands clutching six packs.

"No, Greg, they're not here yet," I said, handing a plate full of steaks and one plate full of veggie kabobs to Nick. "Why are you so late?"

"I did a couple extra laps back at the track," he said. "Man, go-karting is fun!"

Warrick reached for Greg's contribution to the barbecue, and started loading the bottles into the cooler near the grill.

"This is your last chance to let me go to Jessica's, Mom," Lindsey whined.

"My last chance?" I repeated, astonished. "This is your last chance before you're grounded. You're staying."

Lindsey groaned. I knew there were about a hundred places she'd rather be than at her mother's work barbecue, but I was adamant that she stayed in tonight. I wasn't sure why. Maybe I figured the more people that were around, the less nervous Gil and Sara would be. Make it more of a party setting.

"Make mine medium rare," Jim told Nick, our self-appointed chef.

"You got it," Nick replied winking.

Greg cracked open a beer.

"Is this gonna be… I don't know, weird?" he asked.

"What, seeing Griss and Sara together?" Warrick said. "We've known for like, two weeks now, you'd think the novelty would have worn off."

"Well, Sara was in the hospital nearly all last week," Greg pointed out. "And she hasn't been by the lab all that much since. It's almost like she's avoiding us."

"I'm sure she's not, Greg," I assured him. "She's still on leave."

"I know," he shrugged. "I just miss having her around."

"Well, in any case, we've seen the two of them together since Sara's rescue," Nick added. "It won't be weird at all."

Greg nodded noncommittally, but I could understand where he was coming from. Since we plucked Sara from the desert, Grissom had yet to act less than professional around us, save from his private talk with me at Sara's bedside. But it was _still_ hard to picture them as a couple, to see him treating her like anything other than his employee. Then again, we weren't around all the time. If I knew a thing about Gil Grissom, it was that he valued his privacy. I'd bet Sam Braun's entire estate that he and Sara were two entirely different people when they were alone.

"Speak of the devil," Warrick called as two figures strode through the gate. "We almost thought you'd stood us up!"

Grissom closed the gate behind them and put the hand closest Sara on the small of her back. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and looked very much a couple.

"Okay, Greg wins," Nick muttered from the grill. "It _is_ kinda weird."

I gave him a quick jab in the side with my elbow and greeted our two newest arrivals with my most winning smile.

"Well, Nick's cookin', so make yourselves comfortable," I said as hugs were exchanged. "Linds, get Sara a beer."

Despite Lindsey's groans of protest earlier, she was all smiles as she trotted to the cooler and gave the beer to Sara with a one-armed hug. She and my mother were both home when I'd gotten back from the hospital after Sara's rescue, and they'd both listened as I recounted the horrific miniature killer story. Lindsey had asked after Sara every day since.

We all took seats on plastic lawn chairs, most of which were borrowed from my neighbors. We didn't often have so much company. Gil shifted his chair closer to Sara's, so that he could place his hand on her thigh, and their knees touched as they sat. Throughout Nick's precise flipping of the steaks, we chatted and laughed our way through Greg's beer. Though none of us referenced Sara's ordeal, her recovery, her relationship with Grissom, or the inquiry they'd both faced with Ecklie, I knew it was on all our minds. I watched my friends closely. They seemed happy, and definitely more relaxed than I'd ever seen them. I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this barbecue was a good idea after all.

"Steaks are almost up!" Nick called. "Greg, hand me that platter."

"Lindsey, come help me bring out the stuff from the kitchen," I said. "We'll eat out here."

"Why?" Lindsey groaned, not looking up from her phone.

"Because I said so," I growled. "Let's go."

"Don't worry about it, Cath," Sara said. "I'll help."

I paused.

"I don't want to state the obvious, but…"

I trailed off, gesturing towards her casted arm.

"Well, I'll at least grab a handful of silverware," she said. "This arm's still functioning."

I sent Lindsey a glare and Sara followed me through the sliding glass door into the kitchen.

"I've got some rice cooking if you want it with your veggies," I said, grabbing a stack of plates from the cabinet. "Silverware's over there. Knives in the drawer over."

"Rice is good," Sara said, grabbing a stack of napkins and putting the silverware on top. "Thanks for doing this, Cath."

I put the dishes on the counter and turned to face her.

"How are you doing?" I asked. "I mean, how are you _really _doing?"

"Okay," she replied. "The hardest part's just getting a good night's sleep."

"Is it hard with the cast?"

"Nah," she shrugged. "…Nightmares."

"Is he taking good care of you?" I asked, nodding towards the backyard.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," she smiled. "It's like having a live-in nurse. He won't let me do a thing by myself. It's actually kind of nauseating."

"Oh, Sara, trust me, that's the sign of a good man," I winked.

She let out a laugh.

"Never thought he had it in him," I said. "But good for both of you. He makes you happy?"

"Very," Sara said softly.

"Well, even a blind man could see you make him happy," I said, patting her good arm softly. "He loves you, Sara. And at least now I know the reason behind the lack of surliness the last two years."

She laughed.

"Steaks up!" Nick called from the yard.

I smiled at her.

"C'mon."

I grabbed the pot of rice and stack of plates and opened the door for Sara. Nick dished our seven juicy steaks and one plate full of grilled vegetables, Warrick spooned out my grandma's famous mashed potatoes, and Greg passed around an enormous bowl of watermelon. Murmurs of satisfaction circled around the table.

"Now this is a steak," Jim said as he chewed appreciatively.

"Delicious, Nick," I agreed.

"You should see our grill back home in Texas," Nick chuckled. "It's enormous! Can cook up to 20 burgers at a time. My dad's got grilling down to a science. He'd disown me as a son if I didn't pick up these tricks of the trade."

"Griss, Sara hasn't gotten you eating rabbit food yet?" Warrick joked.

"It's the one thing I can't get him to do for me," Sara beamed at him.

Grissom shrugged nonchalantly.

"I like my meat," he said. "And her tofu stuff is disgusting."

"Hey, you tried it last month and said it wasn't bad," Sara protested.

"I lied, honey," Grissom said calmly.

"The truth comes out!" Warrick laughed.

"Well, I've slipped you a veggie burger or two over time, and you never knew the difference," Sara said indignantly.

She crossed her arms as best she could in mock resentfulness, refusing to yield even when Grissom flashed her his puppy dog eyes. He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, and she finally gave up and kissed him back. I tried hard not to stare (and kicked Greg under the table as he did nothing _but_ stare), but I was in shock for how… couple-y my friends were acting… and how natural it seemed. I'd never seen Gil or Sara act like this, and if they had individually, I'd think someone had swapped their personalities. But together, it just somehow made sense. Like how the two of them together just made sense.

We polished off our plates, and Lindsey, obviously feeling guilty for letting the one-armed Sara take over her duties earlier, cleared the table and dished us up large bowls of ice cream.

"Well, I don't know why we haven't done this before," Jim said as he scraped his bowl clean. "Catherine, Nick… you two should open a restaurant."

"Just please leave the lights on," Warrick added.

We all chuckled.

"We should go, honey," Grissom said softly. "You've still got medicine to take."

He looked at her like he was encouraging her. But to do what, I had no idea. Sara nodded.

"Before we go, I have… kind of an announcement," she said. "Better to do it while we're all here."

A hush fell over the table. Greg actually dropped his spoon on the ground. Even I was a little stunned.

"Don't get too excited," Grissom warned.

"I'm switching to swing," Sara said finally. "It's the best decision for us, and for the team, and… it has to be done."

We all stayed quiet. Losing Sara was definitely a blow… we'd all been on the same team for so long.

"Did Ecklie give you a hard time?" Nick asked gently.

Both Sara and Grissom shrugged.

"Not really," Sara said.

"We just told him the truth," Grissom added. "But we all know the protocol… no relationships between members of the same forensic team. One of us has to move."

"And you need him more than you need me," Sara said as protests from every mouth broke out. She held up a hand to quiet us. "I'll still see you getting off and coming on shifts. And besides, you know where we live."

The word 'we' was not lost on any of us.

"We'll miss you, Sara," Nick said.

"Yeah, it won't be the same without you, girl," Warrick added.

"I'll miss you guys too," Sara smiled. "But we're doing this again. And preferably when I have full use of both my arms and can show Nick how to _really _grill a steak."

Warrick let out a low whistle.

"_You _know how to grill a steak?" Nick asked dubiously.

"Just cause I don't eat 'em, don't mean I can't cook 'em," Sara replied.

"Well, be prepared to put your money where your mouth is," Nick retorted.

"Keep your money in your pocket, Nicky," Grissom advised. "I've seen her cook."

"What else don't we know?" Nick said in mock offense. "Bye, sweetie."

He hugged Sara and the goodbyes commenced. As I hugged Gil, I overheard Sara speaking to Greg.

"Are you okay with this?" she asked.

"No," he said dejectedly. "You think there's room on swing for me?"

Sara laughed.

"Grave needs you," she said. "They wouldn't know what to do with themselves if they lost both of us. You'll be fine."

"I had a good teacher."

"Yes, you did," Sara said, winking at him.

She gave him one last hug, waved goodbye to each of us, and gave Grissom her hand. I saw him squeeze it tight before intertwining his fingers with hers. He gave us one last wave and they disappeared around the gate.

"Well, who woulda thunk it?" Nick said. "They're cute."

"Still think it's weird," Greg muttered.

"Oh, give it up, Gregg-o," I said, swinging my arm around his shoulders. "Sara Sidle's taken at last."

"I knew it," he sighed. "Even if she didn't tell me directly… I knew."

"They look really happy," Warrick added.

"I don't think I've seen either of them smile so much," Lindsey put in.

Jim just chuckled.

"I knew," he said, winking as he grabbed his plate of leftovers. "Long before any of you even had a clue. And I'll just say, while you were all watching them… I was watching you. Thanks for the show, everyone."

He left, each of us rooted to the grass in awe.

"And he's not even a CSI," Nick whistled.

"We were blinded, Nicky," I said. "Couldn't see what was right there in front of us."

"Well, I'll be damned if I let them pull another one over me," Warrick said. "I'll be keeping my eye on them from now on."

"Yeah, you lay down the line," Nick teased.

"Yeah, I will," Warrick shot back.

I shook my head as the two of them went at each other, thinking that if the two of them could finally get their act together, there may just be hope for the rest of us.


	3. The Case of the Tattooed Proposer

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 8x4, The Case of the Cross-Dressing Carp.

* * *

><p>"I think it's time we get these suits off," I murmured after we both stared at each other embarrassedly.<p>

She grinned.

"I thought you like it when I dress up?"

"I like it better when you dress down," I winked. "If you know what I mean."

"I think I do."

I pulled her by the hand back through the chain-link fence, where we rid ourselves of the helmets and gloves. As soon as her mask was off, my lips were claiming her neck, the gesture that I so wanted to do just a few moments before.

_My wife_. Sara would soon be my wife. Even just thinking the word made me shake my head in amazement. How many times had I been told that I wasn't the marrying type? How many times had I told _myself_ that I wasn't the marrying type? Countless – before Sara. Before Sara, a lot of things were different, but I wouldn't go back to the way things were for the world. Because _she_ was my world. She changed everything, she changed me, and suddenly, nothing felt too farfetched or out of reach. We could do anything we wanted.

I kissed her harder.

"Gil," Sara said, sighing into my ear.

I ignored her until she wiggled out of my grasp.

"Gil," she said firmly. "Not here."

"I can't help it," I murmured, reaching for her again. "You're so beautiful."

She kissed me back after that, and it wasn't just my hands wandering over the sticky plastic suits.

"Home," she breathed eventually. "Now."

I don't know how I managed to get us back to the townhouse with Sara kissing me at every red light and her hand precariously high on my thigh the entire ride. Hank bounded at us the moment we stumbled in the door, already wrapped up in each other again, but we completely ignored his whines and pants for a pat and a pee.

Instead, we positively ripped the clothes off each other's bodies, something we hadn't done for a while. We were breathless and sweaty and it was fast and furious, but, as it always was with Sara, full of love. Even more breathless and even sweatier, we refused to let each other go, and lay side-by-side on the mattress, clasping hands.

"Did that really just happen?" Sara sighed.

"We can do it again if you aren't sure."

She giggled and tugged on the sheets around my waist to pull me closer.

"Not that," she chided. "The _other _thing that just happened."

"You mean the one where I asked you to marry me?"

She pointed her finger at me.

"That one. Yes."

I just laughed and kissed her hairline. But as her finger traced circles around my forearm, she spoke again.

"But… in all seriousness… you really want to?"

I pulled away from her a little so that I could look her in the eye.

"Sara," I said firmly. "I wouldn't have asked you if I didn't mean it. I…"

I tailed off and she tilted her head with concern.

"What?" she asked softly.

"I don't have a ring," I said in realization. "I just proposed to the woman I love, and I don't have a ring. My mother would be _mortified_."

"I don't need a ring," she countered.

"Honey—"

"Do you love me?"

I stared at her.

"With everything I have," I said honestly.

"That's all I need," she said conclusively.

"Sa—"

"Nope," she said, putting a finger to my lips to stop me. "Case closed. I mean, once we're married, it might be nice, but right now, all I need is you."

I nuzzled my cheek against her smooth neck.

"God, I love you, Sara."

"I love you too," she murmured before pausing. "Do you think she'll like me?"

I pulled away.

"Who?"

"Your mother."

We rearranged ourselves into a sitting position, Sara's bare chest facing mine.

"I… I've never even met her," she continued. "Do you think she'd be happy? About… this?"

I smiled gently.

"She may have never met you, but she knows how I feel about you," I said. "All she wants is for me to be happy. And I have never been happier."

I stroked her cheek.

"She'll love you."

She nodded.

"Are you going to tell her?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I haven't even thought that far ahead."

"Are we going to tell the team?" she asked with a smirk. "Or are we going to keep that a secret for two years too?"

"I don't think I could keep it in that long," I chuckled. "Once you're my wife, I want everyone to know."

"Oh yeah?" she teased, trailing her finger down my chest.

"Mhm," I murmured against her shoulder. "I might get a tattoo, right on my arm, that says, 'I love Sara'."

She laughed and pushed at my chest.

"Please don't."

"So matching tattoos are a bad idea?"

Sara's giggle fit grew stronger and she sank into the pillows with tears in her eyes, gasping for breath.

"N-no…"

"And here I was thinking we'd do those instead of rings…" I continued to tease. "_Now_ what am I going to do?"

Sara grasped at her chest and fought to catch her breath.

"It's not even… not even that funny," she panted.

"What, now you're saying my sense of humor sucks?" I huffed. "That's it, gimme back the ri—oh wait."

Sara positively died, pushing me away from her until she could catch her breath.

"C'mere you."

We didn't do the proposal thing again, but we did do that other thing once or twice more. And after, all my worrying about how she had been doing in the last few weeks while recovering went out the door as I held her. We'd fallen asleep like this countless times before, and it might have sounded cheesy to say, but that time felt different. Because I knew that no matter what the future brought, it wouldn't matter, because I would have Sara by my side.

As long as we both should live.


	4. When and How

**A/N: **I'm glad you all enjoyed the happiness squeezed in before we got to the angst. Unfortunately, we had to get here eventually.

Spoilers for episode 8x6, Who and What.

* * *

><p>I came home and tore around the townhouse like a madwoman. I didn't bother stopping to see where my coat and bag landed once I slammed the door shut behind me, I just tore straight towards the bedroom, tearing off my work clothes in the process and grabbing running clothes as I found them – a t-shirt, a sports bra, a pair of shorts. I pulled on my running shoes, snatched a hair tie from the bathroom counter, grabbed Hank and his leash and was out the door in less than two minutes.<p>

My feet starting pounding the pavement the moment I locked the door behind me. Hank bounded at my side, and I clenched his leash in my hand, also clamping my jaw shut tight and willing myself to concentrate on nothing but the feel of my feet against the sidewalk. But no matter how hard I ran, how far I pushed myself or how much sweat dripped down my face, I couldn't escape it. I couldn't run from this. It was crashing over me like a tidal wave, and I could do nothing to stop it.

I turned into a park, tied Hank's leash to the bike rake nearby, and bent down, hands on my knees, under a tree. I panted hard, my lungs feeling like they would burst any moment, and just… collapsed. Right there under the tree, my back pressed against the trunk, I collapsed in exhaustion and weakness and sadness, burying my head in my hands and trying to muffle my sobs.

"Sara?"

I looked up and found Greg next to the bike rack, his hands on the handlebars of a blue and green bike. I looked at him through red, puffy eyes and knew I looked like a complete mess. I _was _a mess. As I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, Greg paused for a moment to scratch Hank behind the ears and came to sit down next to me under my tree.

"Bad day, huh?" he asked gently.

"The worst," I sniffed.

"You wanna talk about it?" he asked tentatively, watching as I plucked strands of grass from the earth. Hank barked at a passerby.

I shrugged.

"It was a bad scene," I said dully.

Greg nodded encouragingly.

"I heard about it," he said. "And I heard Grissom's in New York."

It was my turn to nod.

"He should be back in a few days."

"Well, I have the night off," he suggested. "If you want some company."

I gave him the best smile I could manage.

"Thanks, Greg," I said sincerely. "But I'll be all right."

"I'm worried about you," he rushed. "I hardly get to see you any more, and… after what you said the other week…"

"That was true," I acknowledged. "I _am _tired of having my face shoved in death. Especially in deaths like the ones today. It was… it was just so… brutal. And unnecessary. It just makes me wonder what I'm even doing here… if we can't prevent things like this."

"Sara, Grissom has a _dog_," Greg said, out of the blue. "He came to a barbecue last month. He's actually happy. You might not make a lasting difference in the crime rate, Sara, but you _do _make a difference."

I sighed and nodded, watching Hank strain against his leash to go join the game of Frisbee that was taking place several yards from us.

"Are you sure you don't want company tonight?"

"I'm sure," I smiled at him. "But thanks."

"You want me to walk you home?"

"Nah, I'm all right," I said, pulling myself up. "We're just around the corner."

"Okay," Greg said reluctantly. "But do me a favor and, while Grissom's gone, if you need anything, gimme a call. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. "Thank you, Greg."

"Bye, Sara. And bye, Hank!"

He gave the boxer's ears one last scratch before taking off on his bike. I watched him until he disappeared and turned to make the walk back home. Once there, I filled up Hank's bowl with fresh water, and was pulling out a water bottle for myself when the phone rang.  
>"Hi, honey," he said as soon as I picked up.<p>

"Hi," I murmured. "How's the case?"

"It's going," he answered. "We're getting there, but it may take longer than I expected. Sara, I…"

"Yes?"

"We didn't really get to talk much before I left," he said. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know," I sighed, giving him the same answer as earlier. "I guess I just miss you."

"I'm sorry, honey," he said. "For leaving you when you needed me."

"I always need you," I replied. "But I'll be okay. Honestly."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Okay," he conceded. "I'll be home as soon as I can. And Sara?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

I cradled the phone closer to my face, wishing it were him that I was holding instead.

"I love you, too."

We ended the call and I went straight for the bedroom, not feeling like food or a shower, or even a change of clothes. I crawled into bed, putting my back towards the empty side, knowing that I would not be able to sleep staring at it.

I wished I could convince myself as well as I could convince Grissom. I wished the promise I gave him were actually true. I really wished that everything would be all right again once he returned, but I knew that even he couldn't cure what was afflicting me right now.

Even without staring at Gil's empty side, I couldn't sleep, and I whistled to Hank. He came padding in, joining me on the bed with a heaving jump. It helped a little, but I still watched the hours roll by with tired, empty eyes. Eventually, I crawled out of bed and put on one of his sweatshirts, burying my nose in the collar and breathing in his familiar scent. I wrapped myself up in it, imagining his arms around me, holding me and telling me that things would be okay.

But even if he were there, arms around me, holding me, I don't think I could have believed him.


	5. So Long, Farewell

**A/N: **:(

Spoilers for episdoe 8x7, Goodbye and Good Luck.

* * *

><p>I found her nametag in the trashcan.<p>

Her locker was empty.

And no one had seen her leave.

It was then that I began to feel sick.

I pulled out my cell as I started to race through the hallways of the lab to my car, attracting stares as I passed.

"Come on, Sara," I muttered at the ringing tone in my ear. "Pick up, honey. Pick up."

She didn't answer.

So I drove home in a frenzy, clutching her letter in one hand and my phone in the other, hoping to God that she'd be there when I arrived. I needed to know what was happening – to her, to us – and most importantly, I just wanted to hold her one more time. I parked, a yellow cab parked and waiting at the curb, and burst through the front door, and found her sitting silently in our bedroom, a large suitcase at her feet and a knapsack on her lap. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked, quite honestly, broken.

I wanted to run right to her and take her into my arms, but something rooted me in place, and I stood in the doorway while we stared at each other.

"Honey," I said softly, holding up her letter. "What is this?"

"At least I didn't leave it in a book," she said, attempting a smile that didn't come close to reaching her eyes. "Next to the dictionary entry for 'goodbye'."

"Is that what this is?" I asked. "Goodbye?"

She hugged the knapsack to her chest.

"I don't know what this is," she said shakily.

I took two steps closer to her.

"Stay," I said softly. "Stay here. Take some time off. Just stay with me, so I can… I can… help."

"I don't think I can," she replied. "Gil, I-I have to go."

She looked up at me, and I saw a pale, thin, sad imitation of the woman I loved. And mixed in, I saw the terrified little girl that she never quite stopped being.

"Tell me what I can do," I said. "To fix this."

She only shook her head. Her eyes started to water, and the knapsack fell to the floor as she raised her hands to cover her face. It was then that I went to her, holding her weak and frail body in my arms as she fell to pieces in my embrace. I don't know how long I held her, but eventually, tears starting flowing from my eyes too, and we cried together.

"I'm so scared," she whispered in a trembling voice.

"Tell me why," I urged gently.

"I'm afraid I don't know who I am any more," she replied, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "And that if… I don't do something about it now, I'll turn into someone I don't even recognize. Someone I don't want to be."

"Sara, you're not your mother," I said softly, knowing where she was heading.

But she just shook her head and backed away from me, as the tears flowed harder. I felt powerless – weak – and didn't know what to do to protect this person I loved so much. She took several chest-rattling breaths.

"I just can't do this any more," she whispered.

"I don't want to lose you," I whispered back.

We pulled apart, and I could see the fear in her eyes.

"If you love me," she said. "You have to let me do this."

I put my hands on her shoulders and stared at her, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face. I pulled her into a teary kiss, and had to force myself to let go. Hanging on would only hurt her.

"I'll wait for you," I told her.

A jingle from the door singled Hank's arrival. He stuck his nose through the crack in the door and pushed the door open. He padded into the room, sitting right in front of Sara and looking up at her expectantly.

"Take good care of him for me," she said, kneeling down to him.

More tears welled in her eyes as she put her arms around the dog's neck, sloppy, wet kisses planted on her ear. She grabbed the strap of the knapsack and pulled it up with her as she stood.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You must think I'm so selfish."

"God, Sara, never," I said. "I just want you to be happy. And if doing this will get you back to the woman I fell in love with… who am I to stop you?"

Outside, her cab honked.

"I have to go," she whispered.

We each stepped closer and folded into each other. I kissed her cheek, and then the side of her neck, trying to find strength in the warmth and closeness of her body.

"I'll miss you," I said against her skin. "Take good care of yourself."

She backed away until the only contact we had was at our fingers, still holding onto each other. She took her suitcase in her freehand, swallowed hard, and slipped her hand from mine. I followed her through the house to the front door in silence, Hank behind me with his head hung low. With her hand on the doorknob, she was fighting back tears, but she turned to face me.

"Gil?"

"Yes, honey?"

"I love you so much."

I couldn't help myself. I rushed to her for one last kiss. It could only be described as bittersweet. I let my finger trail over her cheek.

"I love you, Sara."

And I watched her go. Out the door, into the cab, and she was gone. Hank whimpered behind me, and when I turned around, he made a dash for the bedroom. I followed him, collapsing on the bed in exhaustion, but knowing I wouldn't sleep. I lay down, looking at the empty space beside me, and placing my hand on the cold sheets. My heart was already aching with the realization that I so badly wanted to ignore.

Goodbye really was the hardest word.


	6. It Kills Me

**A/N: **Spoilers for episode 8x8, You Kill Me.

* * *

><p>I would take a hundred beatings over this.<p>

This _sucked_.

I worked my cases in record time, because all I wanted to do was get the heck out of there. I was short with Warrick as we processed our scene, because I wanted Sara there instead. My heart was so heavy, I made several mistakes, and I could hear Sara in my ear, chiding me, because she was the one who had taught me to do it right. As I grabbed my jacket, I could see her sitting on the bench, her head in her hands. She was everywhere, and yet, she was nowhere.

I passed by Nick with a grumble, and I could only muster a hollow "whatever" when Grissom wished me goodnight. Wasn't he miserable too? Couldn't he see how much things sucked around here without her?

I missed my best friend. I missed always having someone to go get breakfast with, always having someone to joke with at a scene. I missed the assurance that there would always be someone around to make me smile, and I missed the knowledge that she'd always be there to back me up.

She wasn't there any more. Who knows if she ever would be again? She'd up and left without a word, and that was what hurt the most.

It killed me to know that I did nothing to help her. I knew she was hurting, but I gave her space, with the assumption that Grissom was taking care of her and that she'd come to me, if she needed me. Maybe if I had been a better friend, she wouldn't have left.

This sucked. Suck, suck, sucked.

At my apartment, I flopped myself on the couch and flipped through the channels dully. I knew I was being ridiculous. Sara had moved on, and the lab would too. It wasn't like she was dead. I could still call her, talk to her, if I wanted to. Maybe. If she wanted to.

As if by a stroke of intuition, my phone rang. And the name on the I.D. was the only one I wanted to see.

"Hi, Greg," she said shyly.

"Sara," I said, fighting to keep the emotion out of my voice. "Hi."

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you… I…"

"It's okay," I said quickly as she broke off, obviously crying. "Sara, it's okay. I… understand."

"I hate goodbyes," she cried. "And I couldn't stand to do it with the people I love the most."

"It's easier to do it this way?" I prompted. "Call all of us?"

"No," she said softly. "I just called you."

I paused, feeling my heart breaking a little. My feelings were battling each other – the ache I felt for her being gone with the concern that was growing over the pain in her voice.

"I'm sorry," she said again in a whisper.

"You don't have anything to apologize for," I told her. "I could barely keep my head over water last year. Even someone as strong as you has to take a break every once in a while."

"Greg," she said seriously. "I don't know… I don't know if I'll be back."

My stomach dropped to my feet.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"San Francisco," she answered. "I have… some things to take care of."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be," she sighed. "I hope. I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, and make you promise me you won't blame yourself, because I know you'll try."

I shifted uncomfortably.

"Greg," she said in a warning tone.

"I promise," I conceded, allowing myself to smile.

"This was something I had to do," she said. "I don't think anything you, or any one else, for that matter, could have done. I need to… put myself back together again."

"Sara, you're worrying me."

"Don't," she stressed. "I'll be fine. And we'll keep in touch, okay?"

"Okay."

"Good," she said, satisfied. "Now stop wallowing around your apartment in pity. Go get breakfast or something, and order those nasty runny eggs for me."

I laughed.

"I miss you, Sara."

"I miss you too, Greg," she replied. "I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

"Bye."

No sooner had I hung up with Sara, that my phone started buzzing again. I sighed, rolled my eyes and flipped it open.

"Sanders."

"Gregg-o," came Nick's voice, surrounded by clattering silverware. "We're at Frank's – get your butt over here."

It only took a moment's pause for me to answer.

"Okay," I replied. "I'll… be right there."

I shut my phone, and went to meet my friends. Because I knew that that was what Sara – my _best _friend – wanted me to do.

I learned a lot from Sara over the years, but the most important lessons had nothing to do with forensics at all. I did miss her, and it _still _sucked, but even from hundreds of miles away, Sara was still teaching me.

And I would always be willing to learn.


	7. Chatting Up with Sara

**A/N: **I can't help it. I have a hard time keeping Sara out of these stories, but I don't think her presence ever really went away in the eighth season. But obviously, there will be a heavy emphasis on Grissom in season nine, so I'm trying to keep as many characters involved while I can.

Spoilers for episode 8x10, Lying Down With Dogs.

* * *

><p>For three minutes, I let my anger get the best of me.<p>

I kicked the door to the parking lot open, took a swipe at the nearest parked car, and once inside my rental car that smelled a little like rotten cheese, I slammed my hands against the top of the steering wheel.

"Damnit!"

I was going to a place within myself that I didn't know existed, becoming a person that I didn't know. Things were collapsing around me, and nothing seemed normal any more. All I could get a grasp on was my anger and frustration – at anybody and everybody. At myself, and Gedda, and Grissom and Brass and…

I needed to get away from this damn lab. For twenty-four hours, I needed to take a deep breath and a break and try to collect myself as best I could. Because even in this new world of breakdown and failure, I still didn't want to disappoint.

At my apartment, it wasn't any better. I didn't want to be around people, but apparently didn't want to be alone, either. I pulled out my cell phone, wondering who in the world I could call and just _talk_ to… someone who didn't know the mess that I had created and was still trying to clean up. Someone who understood who I really was, under this mess of a man I looked like now.

I just hoped she would answer.

"Hello?" came her voice, hinted with surprise.

"Sara," I breathed. "You have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

She gave a low chuckle, a sound I had come to love in the last few years.

"Well, this is certainly unexpected," she said. "How are you?"

"It has been one hell of a week," I sighed.

"I know the feeling," she replied. I could almost see her nodding, and for some reason, the image was comforting. "Work?"

"I don't even know where to begin," I mumbled. "Let's just say I got myself some vacation time."

"You're _suspended_?" she asked in awe. "Warrick… what—why?"

"Another long story," I said. "I'm sorry… I shouldn't have bothered you with this."

"Well, are you okay?" she asked. "Was it Ecklie?"

"No," I said dejectedly. "It was Grissom."

I didn't know what I expected her response to be, but I didn't expect a ringing silence. She was so quiet on the other line that I thought for a moment I had lost her, and double-checked my phone to make sure the call was still connected. Maybe I'd just figured that she and Grissom were frequently in touch, and she already knew. Maybe I expected her to yell. But the next time she spoke, it was a soft whisper.

"Why would he do that?"

"It wasn't uncalled-for, I promise," I said. "He had every right. I guess I'm just… frustrated."

"I know that feeling too," she said softly. "I'm sorry, Warrick. I wish I were there. Take you out for a beer, or… something."

"Yeah, I wish you were, too," I said. "You have no idea how different it is around here without you."

She was silent again, and for a moment, I worried I had said the wrong thing. I cleared my throat, all too ready to change the subject.

"So, how you doin', girl?" I asked.

"I'm okay," she sighed. "Taking care of a few things that are long overdue. Warrick… I miss you too. I don't want you to think that I don't… because of how I left."

"I know," I assured her. "You did what you had to do. And I'm still not worried about you, you tough cookie. You'll be all right."

"Thanks," she laughed. "But I can't say I'm not worried about you. You sure you're okay?"

I took a long, deep breath and sank down into my couch.

"Can't you come to Vegas, file a report on me, and it'll all be like the good old days?" I asked. "Eight years ago?"

"I wish," she said quietly.

"I'm okay, Sara," I assured her. "I just wanted to hear a friendly voice."

"Well, I still haven't quite adjusted to the sleeping-during-the-night thing," she said. "I'm averaging about three hours a night. Call me whenever you need."

"Thank you," I said sincerely. "I really needed this."

"Me too."

"Bye, Sara."

"Bye, Warrick."

I leaned back into my couch, feeling the exhaustion of the past few days starting to sweep over me. I was nervous about going back to work the next day. Things had already been different… they would likely be even more abnormal now, taking the events of the last few days into account.

I had taken the last eight or nine years for granted, when everything was so easy. Now, all of a sudden, I was realizing how unstable life could be. One day Sara was there, the next she was gone.

It made me a little nervous for what life had in store for me.


	8. Grissom's Paradiso

**A/N:** I don't usually post on weekends, but there was a lot to cover this week! How could I not do the phone call at the end of this one?

Spoilers for episode 8x12, Grissom's Divine Comedy.**  
><strong>

* * *

><p>I didn't want to call him, but my concern for him won out in the end. He didn't often get sick, but the last time we spoke, he sounded on the verge of collapsing with every cough and sneeze.<p>

I dialed the number.

"Hi," he said warmly.

"Please tell me you spent the whole day in bed and not in a courtroom," I pleaded.

He chuckled.

"Well…"

"Gilbert," I said in my best scolding voice. "I know Madeline is a friend, but you _promised_ me you'd stay in bed!"

"It couldn't be helped, Sara," he replied. "I'm glad I did. But I was already starting to get over it anyway."

"You do sound better," I admitted.

"Thera-flu and Tylenol do wonders," he said. "But I think I got half the lab sick before they could kick in."

"That would explain Nick's text."

"His text?"

"Something about a pity party with Kleenex and a dehumidifier," I said. "He must blame you, if he sent it to me."

"Ah, well, he'll get over it," he said. "A few more mugs of tea and bowls of soup and I'll be good as new."

I paused, remembering how well Gil had taken care of me the last time I'd caught a nasty bug. My heart suddenly ached to be at home with him, tucking him into a blanket on the couch while Hank slept at his feet.

"I wish I were there to take care of you," I said softly.

"Trust me, you don't want to see what I look like right now," he kidded before adding, "But you're there to take care of you. That's what's important."

I sighed.

"I just wonder sometimes if I did the right thing."

"You did, honey," he assured. "Even though I miss you as much as my nose misses its sense of smell, I know you did the right thing."

"How's Hank?"

"He's gotten into this new fascination with water," he replied as I laughed. "I have to close the shower door right away, or else he'll get in there and lick up every last drop. Taking him for a walk around the block has turned into a battle to keep him away from the sprinklers."

"Give him a hug for me."

"I will," he said.

"I should get going," I said reluctantly. "I'm meeting with my mother in an hour."

I held my breath, hoping he wouldn't ask how things were going with her. Because I wasn't really sure. The last time I tried telling him how I felt sitting down and talking with her for the first time in almost twenty years, I'd come close to tears. I'd been gone over a month, but I still didn't really have any clue what I was doing here.

But I had nothing to worry about.

"Okay," he said without comment. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"Get some rest," I said firmly. "Don't make me fly out there to force-feed you soup and tie you into bed."

"Sounds like fun to me," he teased.

"I'm serious, Gilbert."

"I promise, honey," he chuckled. "I'll talk to you soon."

"I love you," I offered softly.

I could picture him smiling.

"I love you too."

Just as we were about to hang up, I was enveloped by a massive, boisterous sneeze. He was silent on the other end, and I just knew he was trying to hold back laughter.

"What was that you were saying about soup and bed, honey?" he asked.

"I blame you, Gilbert," I said. "I blame you."

And though I'd had a rough week, I was exhausted, and I could already feel the pressure creeping into my sinuses, I hung up with a smile.


	9. Forever

**A/N: **To follow.

Spoilers for episode 8x17, For Gedda.

* * *

><p>Your life can change in an instant.<p>

I learned that from a very young age, when one moment, my father was lying down for a nap, and the next, he was gone forever. Life changes so fast, and could be taken away so quickly and at any moment, so you should never forget to live fully, every moment. My mother taught me a lot of lessons, but that was her big one. She instilled it in me every day since my father died. I told her I understood, but I don't think I ever really did.

Until now.

I left the diner smiling. I wanted to pick up a newspaper so that I could do the crossword when I got home. I hated the quietness of my home without her there. Nowadays, I could only sleep until I did the crossword, and did every inch of it.

And then my life changed.

I don't think I will ever be able to get the image out of my mind – Warrick slumped, bloody, almost gone. Physically, I eventually let go of him. Emotionally, I don't think I ever will. I will always be able to feel my arms around him, his life slipping through my fingers.

A single moment burned into my memory forever. So vivid and detailed, it sears pain.

I will never understand that moment. Warrick made mistakes, but this… this was unwarranted. Unfair. Not right.

I would have given anything to keep his heart beating in my arms that night. A part of me died with him.

Warrick always told me how much he learned from me. But he never knew that I learned just as much, if not more, from him.

And he was gone.

Gone.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **This one was tough. I kept it short, but I hope that the emotive power of the first line backs up the entire piece, because I now know how true that statement is. Last month, I lost a friend to cancer. She was nineteen. So even though this episode is "For Gedda" and this chapter is called "Forever", this is really for Leah.


End file.
